::guffaw

I laugh a lot.

Chances are very good that if I know you, we have laughed together on several occasions.

My friend Erin once told me that it's "very satisfying" to make me laugh.
(Of course, I giggled at this.)

She took this photo:

I find laughter a beautiful gift and a glorious tool in life; for shaving the edge off of awkwardness, for shining tiny beams of light - however momentary - into dreary circumstances.

I've laughed in hospitals and hospices, in funeral homes, in counseling offices, in classrooms while teaching and learning.

Sometimes I laugh because there is nothing else to do.

And sometimes, because it's the only thing to do.

::friday fun

I stole this from Stephanie. Y'all should read her other blog too.

Anyway.

Friday Fun Board questions:

1. The Royal Wedding: hot or not?

-- Not. Meh. I still don't get why I'm supposed to care.

2. Favorite board game?

-- Apples to Apples & Scrabble.

3. What food reminds you of your childhood?

-- Caramel corn. My family used to make it from scratch at camp.

4a. What isn't a sport, but should be?

-- Speed-reading.

4b. What is a sport, but shouldn't be?

-- Cheerleading. I know they work hard and all, but is it even necessary?

::commemoration

Since becoming a liturgist (one of two) at my church last summer, I have harbored a great desire to write prayers and litanies for worship.
I've been particularly interested in composing a Confession of Sin.
To commemorate the unspeakable violence endured by God Incarnate on my behalf, I share here my own confessions.

Confession of Sin for Good Friday:

Against You, O Lord, have I transgressed.

I have savored what I needed to ignore, and neglected what I needed to cherish.

I have reduced my fellow humans - complex creatures sculpted in Your image - to things; physical bodies, convenient categories, collections of qualities I either admire or disdain.

I have failed to trust and accept Your love, and the love of those who sincerely care for me.

I have squandered priceless blessings, failing to acknowledge Your unspeakable grace, generosity, and providence.

I have failed to follow You faithfully, too often bowing instead to cursory sensations.

I have been enticed by flashy fallacy, willingly deceived by hollow philosophy.

I have failed to uplift You at the center of my soul.

Lord, have mercy.

Amen.

::acrostic love

As I may have mentioned, I adore my 2-year-old niece, Emma.

A few weeks ago, after I assigned Acrostic poems to my class, I decided to write one of my own.

Enthusiastically greeting each new endeavor,
More eloquent than any toddler should be,
Merry creator of joy and laughter,
A fervent burst of sunshine for every soul.

::spoken

I wrote my first poem in the second grade and read it to my class for Show and Tell.

I now teach poetry to teenagers, and sometimes perform my own poems in small, cozy venues.

I never cared much for "spoken word" delivery, as it always seemed to make poets sound flamboyantly self-important.

This woman, though?
I love her.
Sarah Kay.
Watch this.

::greatest happiness

Several years ago, my dad spoke in church and told a story about me that I'd never heard.

(A bit of background:

Large heads are in my family's DNA.

I will admit, I have a huge head. Not figuratively. Literally.

I also have giant hair, so that doesn't help. But I digress.)

When I was a baby, my pediatrician was very concerned about the size of my head; he was afraid that I might have fluid build-up around my brain. [Spoiler alert: I didn't.]
So, there were tests performed.

CAT scans and such.

While my parents waited a few days for the results, they were both oppressed by anxiety and terrible unrest.

At church one Sunday morning, my dad was alone in the kitchen, pacing and holding me as he prayed for me.
In the midst of his frenzied worry, he sensed a healing, peaceful calm wash over him.

And he believes that God distinctly whispered to him,

"I love her more than you do."

In moments when I feel especially insecure, desperately inadequate, tempted to self-destruct, that story explodes in my brain like celebratory confetti.

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves,
or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

~Victor Hugo